Friday, February 7, 2014

I Sell Truth and Truth Accessories

She walked into my office quickly and stopped so fast her high-heeled boots skidded on the cheap carpet. Her body said we were about to have a conversation and her face said she didn't want to do it but felt she had no choice. Her fate was fixed.

I went back to a report I was filling out.

"I need to say something to you," she said. Her voice had a bit of an edge to it, but not much. She was forcing it.

"Oh?" I didn't look up. The radio was turned down low and all you could hear out of the speakers was the rika-tick rika-tick rika-tick-tick of the slap bass.

"Yeah," she said. "It's not any of your business who I date."

I pushed the report aside, reached into my desk and pulled out a Tarot deck. I set it on top of the desk and looked up at her.

"Then you should tell the men you're fucking to stop bragging to me about it," I said. We locked eyes. Her big blues were wild with fear and discomfort. My cold greys didn't give a shit and had long grown tired of the whole mess.

"I see everybody. I see everything. You're not nearly as special as you think."

She winced like I'd just slapped her. She needed me to like her--to want her.

"What do they tell you?"

"Lewd statements of intent. The usual. Why?" I took the rubber band off the Tarot deck and began to shuffle.

"No reason," she mumbled.

"Apparently I'm a Station of the Cross on the way between your legs," I said. She wasn't Catholic and didn't get it. She didn't get much of anything I ever said to her. Explaining it would only make her more uneasy around me.

"Do you tell fortunes?"

Rika-tick Rika-tick Rika-tick-tick.

"No," I said. "I see fate."

"There is no fate," she scoffed. Dumb men called her wild. I guess that's why they always came to me to brag. Apparently they thought they'd caught a wild one. But I knew better. I saw her fear.

The Fear--it radiated off her every time her guard came down just a sliver--which wasn't very often. She was terrified of something. Sometimes in the distance, when it was quiet and she was pretending to glow in the center of every man's attention, I could hear the demons screaming at her from the corners of her mind. The louder they screamed, the faster she moved around the room and the broader her smile. She was trying desperately to outrun and outshine them. And when she couldn't do that, there was always the booze, which had taken a visible toll on her in recent years.

"Just because fate terrifies you doesn't make it less real," I said. I knew that button could be pushed several times.

"I'm not scared," she said quickly. Too quickly, really. And she looked down after she said it in realization. She might be beautiful, but to me she was an open book with a fourth-grade reading level.

Her left hand shook a bit. It was slight. I made her uncomfortable. This I already knew, but she really was upset.

"I'm sorry they come to me," I said. "I wish they wouldn't."

"What do they tell you?" Her voice was quiet. She was still looking down.

"The usual bullshit some douchey asshole says before they are with a woman way out of their league."

"Is that my fate?"

"No." I wanted her to walk away. I wanted this conversation to end. No good would come from me saying another word.